Not Another Hero
by Bryan Greenberg
Summary: He promised to save her. But when he finally did, she realized that wasn't the point. Brooke centric ONESHOT


**Disclaimer**: I don't own One Tree Hill

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You close your eyes and breathe through the pain. You've never had a particularly weak stomach, but the sight of the blood oozing from the large gash on your side is making you a little woozy.

You had always expected to die dramatically, but this was a little over the top. Bleeding to death on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere was dramatic but not romantic. You'd probably look horrible when this was all over. You didn't even get a stalker or something cool like Peyton always seemed to find for her near-death experiences. Just a random car-jacker, hoping to make a few bucks off of your car, the contents of your purse, and your probable death.

You sigh. You knew you should have gotten that manicure, not to mention the bikini wax. You wonder what Peyton had been thinking about all the times that she'd been nearing death. You snort (there's no reason to cover the unattractive response when you're all alone). You're pretty sure that Peyton's thoughts weren't superficial ones about how she would look to whoever found her. She'd spent her whole life beating out any moments of shallowness with her depressed music and angry ("deep") works of art.

You're not her, though, and you're too damn tired to think of everything that you're losing as your blood continues to stain the pavement beneath you and the horizon remains unmarred by headlights. There aren't that many people that you love, but you love them hard, and thinking of them right now is too much. You brush your hand through your hair, trying to smooth it, trying to brush away the invading thoughts of Haley and Rachel and little Jamie. You'd just gotten back to Tree Hill that night. It had been months since you'd seen him, and he's gotten so big. So big.

It's getting harder to hold onto consciousness. Darkness is beginning to take over. Darkness that is punctuated by the faces of the people you love more than anything and the people you wish you didn't. Your parents are the last faces you see before you drift into complete unconsciousness; they belong to the latter group.

You're jostled from the darkness by shaking hands and a masculine voice. "Brooke. Please, Brooke. You've gotta wake up, Pretty Girl."

Your eyes flutter a little, but you don't have the energy to open them. You know this voice though. He's speaking again. This time it's not to you. "She's waking up," he says, "Please hurry. You have to hurry. I _am _staying on the line, but you have to hurry."

You try to open your mouth. To tell him not to harass the poor operator, but your mouth won't cooperate and soon you're drifting back to the darkness.

When you open your eyes, everything is white. 'Oh, shit,' you think, 'I got in to heaven after all.'

But then everything comes into focus. You hear the beeping machines and you feel the pain trying to work its way through the woozy numbness that envelops your whole body. And you see him. His blue eyes are focusing on you with worry. He's holding your hand, staring at it, and he doesn't see that you've woken up. For some reason you don't feel the need to make him aware of your consciousness.

Haley enters the room, her eyes puffy and rimmed in red. She immediately zones in on your open eyes. She gasps and rushes to your side, touching your face. Her eyes are filling with tears. "You're awake," she whispers, "Thank God. Thank God."

Lucas is startled from his trance by her sudden movement. When he notices that you're awake, he kisses your hand over and over again. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you," he mumbles against your skin.

You smile weakly. "Don't cry, Hales," you say, your voice weak. "I know you wanted my shoes, but you're not going to get them quite yet."

"Shut up," she sobs, "Don't you dare do that to me again. What would we have...?" She breaks off. "Just don't ever do that again."

You smile at her again as she bends down to hug you. You manage to wrap your arms loosely around her neck, pulling your hand from Lucas's grasp as you do, and you kiss her cheek lightly before she pulls away. "I love you, Tutor Girl," you whisper in her ear.

She stands up straight and brushes a few tears from her cheek. She smiles at you. "I'm going to get the doctor," she says, "Don't go anywhere." You roll your eyes and gesture at the machines to which you are attached, but you know that she doesn't mean physically. You promise to stay put.

You finally look at Lucas after she disappears from the room. "Hey," you say quietly, and he looks up at your face. "Was I dreaming or was it you that found me at the side of the road?" you ask.

"I promised I would rescue you," he mumbles.

_"I wish that it was me. I know that's horrible and I know that's selfish, but I watched you rescue Peyton, and you told me you rescued Dan, and sometimes I just wish you could rescue me."_

_"From what?"_

_"From all of it."_

_"Okay, then. I will."_

"So it was your damsel in distress radar that sent you to the highway?" you tease; you both know it's not really a joke.

"Haley said you were supposed to be on your way," he clarified, "That you should have been there by then. I got worried so I went to look for you."

You nod. "Thanks," you whisper, and you know it's insufficient, but you're not sure what else there is.

He smiles at you. "Anything for you Pretty Girl. I got a taste today of what it might feel like to lose you for good, and I don't think I could handle it."

"Luke," you interrupt.

"I love you, Brooke," he blurts out, "I'm in love you with. It's always been you, and I can't believe what an idiot I've been.

You bring your hands to your temples. You're not sure you can handle this right now. "Stop," you whisper, your voice breaking slightly.

He looks at you, hurt on his face, but you don't have it in you to feel bad about that right now.

This was what you'd thought you'd wanted all those years ago. When you were eighteen and pushing him towards Peyton, nothing would have made you happier. You wanted to be the one he saved, the one he loved. But now you can't help but wonder why the two always had to be mutually exclusive.

You'd thought you wanted him to save you, but, really, you'd always been strong enough to do that yourself. What you had really wanted was for him to want you, whether you needed saving or not. It doesn't take much to want to save someone's life: a little compassion, a lack of hatred. You deserve more than that from the man you pledge your heart to, the man you give your future to.

You've never loved any man like you love him. But you love yourself enough to know that sometimes that isn't enough.


End file.
